


Wind Chill - on hiatus

by MMonster



Category: Sicario (2015)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Slow Burn, but i think this is worth checking out, i have no idea what i am doing, i hope it makes some sense, i know nothing about nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MMonster/pseuds/MMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate is trying to rebuild her life. To save what is left of herself. Except, she might not have anything left to rebuild. Or save. </p><p>Then, he appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. I really hope this is any good. If it is, or isn't, please, let me know. Feedback is essential for improvement, and I definitely plan on getting better at this. Hopefully. Some day.
> 
> Enjoy. :)
> 
> Obs: I guess warning for people who really don't know how to take care of themselves or each other. Also, read the tags. I will not be putting warnings on individual chapters, but if you were fine watching Sicario, you're probably going to be fine here.

Kate can't sleep.

She tosses and turns, sighs and drifts, but ultimately when she is at the very brink of nothingness, a soft murmur runs through her spine and jerks her awake, her heart racing out of her throat.

The murmur is indistinct. No form, no meaning. The voice, though, she knows. Him. Alejandro.

His ghost has been haunting her. His presence, his voice, the weight of his eyes on her as he threatens her life. Even his silence, as he glides through a room, a shadow. Observing. Deliberating. Not a snake, waiting for its time to lunge. A lone wolf, silently waiting for the prey to show itself.

After. After him, everything changed. As he left and Kate stood there, she experienced something few people do. She was unmade. Her thoughts, her beliefs, her memories were not hers anymore, but someone else's. A stranger. The person she was, the person she became, both unknown to her. Everything she knew was known through a perspective she no longer had. Everything she would learn, would be learned through a perspective she hadn't known three days earlier.

Seeing through different eyes for the first time is hard. You don't simply see new things differently, you also hear differently, feel differently, experience differently, remember differently. The past is not set in stone. It can be altered, Kate discovered on that moment, it changes with everything else, as everything else does.

And so it did. Her past was colored by her present. Her future colored by both. Kate was bent until cracks appeared and spread. Until little pieces of her started getting lose, eventually getting lost. Until chunks loosened and dropped. Until parts she believed essential to her very fundamental constitution as a human being were tore apart and taken away. She broke. She did. There is no healing. No remedy. No miracle that can be able to recuperate the person she was.

She is still, however, alive. So, as a requirement of that very situation, of simply existing as a physically functioning human being, someone else was made out of the broken pieces, the material the same, but the form and shape fundamentally changed. Full of ugly cracks and forever lost parts, but unified.

The material was enough to grant Kate her grip on reality. Most mentally healthy people are not always aware of what is real, not in the same way someone made from the same clay as Kate is. It also granted her will to live. Even with everything she had and was on a table, poised to be hammered to dust, she chose life instead, and she always would, for Kate is made that way.

However, even those characteristics weren't left unharmed. Kate started dreaming, and confusing her dreams with reality, waking up and seeing a man where there is only a shadow, eyes where a tree outside softly moves with the wind. She looked to the side, and saw a ghost. She fell asleep, and heard a voice from a different time.

Kate smokes. Drinks. Barely eats. Drives her friends and family away. Has sex with strangers she just met, the most menacing they look the more she wants them. Punishment, is what she wants. Her sense of self-value and self-protection barely existent anymore.

But again, she is alive. So, she tries. At first, out of a petty superficial stubbornness that is part of her very being, Kate stayed where she was. Went to work as if nothing had happened, falling apart only when alone. Eventually, during a rescue mission, she snapped. Children from poor families, ten of them, were being kept on the basement of a house in the outskirts of the city, waiting to be sold into the sex trade. It took an eternity for Kate to be able to get to them, or that is how it felt. Three days of recon, before a move on the house was made. At first, it went well. There were 4 men on the house, according their knowledge. The first in the living room, subdued quickly by the team. The second on a bedroom, shot by Kate while he tried to get to his gun. The third man, she found on the next room over. A little boy, no older than 8 years old, naked, a gun pointed to his head by his captor.

The blood on the bed and on the boy told a story Kate would rather not have heard. One shot to the head, and the man was dead. The boy crumpled to the floor, passed out. She checked his pulse and carefully dragged him behind the bed, out of the line of fire.

They knew the children were being kept at this house. Reggie found the entrance to the basement and called her on the comms. It was sound proofed, so there were chances that the last man in the house was unaware of the fire that occurred. Kate went in first.

She was seeing red. The boy's blood. His injuries. He had obviously been raped by the man that had kidnapped him and used him as a human shield. Kate knew some of the other children probably were, also. The first thing that hit her when she entered the basement was the smell. Piss, shit and blood. The children were being kept in two cages, with buckets to relieve themselves. Their ages went from 3 to 11 years old, both boys and girls. A man was snoring on an armchair on the side of the room opposite to the cages, facing the entrance. He was probably supposed to be keeping an eye on things. He startled when he heard steps close to him. But, before he could move, before he could do anything other than look Kate in the eye, he was dead.

Numbly, Kate lowered her weapon. She just killed an unarmed man, and she felt nothing. No guilt, no shame, no regret. As she looked at the children huddled on the cages, in a deplorable situation, she couldn't muster even the thought that she should not have done it.

Then, she was scared. Bone-deep scared. Kate knew, that was probably how Alejandro started. Easily justifiable deaths of bad, horrible men, which escalated to the murder of innocents. Yes, Kate wasn't a wolf, but nor did she want to become one.

So, Kate lowered her weapon and didn't raise it again. She placidly went through the disciplinary process resulted of her actions, admitting her mistake without justifying it. The physic evaluation wasn't as bad as she feared, considering, and she was soon cleared of wrong doing. Yes, she made a mistake, her superior said, but in their line of work mistakes are inevitable. Fortunately, her mistake resulted only in the death of a scumbag with no family, money or power, nothing more than a replaceable pawn on a game much bigger than him. With a slap on the wrist, without trying to defend herself, Kate got away with murder.

Then, she left. Kate was done. Done with the job and the corruption it brought to her life. She learned her lesson. There is no place for honesty, not really. You can do everything by the book and still be dishonest, about your intentions or objectives, about the means used to reach the end, about the morals that are the base for the action taken. The intentions can be good, she knows, but that is not enough. She knows Matt's intentions were good. Hell, she believes even Alejandro, as twisted as he is, had good intentions at the core of the horrible crimes he committed. Wanting to do good doesn't mean you are doing it.

So, Kate is here. In a small apartment on some godforsaken town in the state of New York. Manly, she chose to come here for the cold and the vague possibility of going to the city, if she wants to. She quit the FBI, yes, but Kate has a very specific skill set, one that tends to be rare and happens to be the only she has. So, she has been working as a security guard for the biggest bank in town (which doesn't mean much, since the town is tiny). It's a dull job, but it pays the bills. More importantly, it also pays for the cigarettes and booze, for the nights out on the slightly bigger bars of the nearest not-a-hole-in-the-ground town, which is about 40 minutes away.

And, she can't sleep.

She should be used to it by now, really. It has been over a year since she has managed to sleep for over eight hours straight, months since she has hit the 5 full hours mark. Kate has been functioning on caffeine and sheer will to live. Except that she has become so damn addicted to coffee it basically has no effect whatsoever aside from avoiding a withdrawal, and her will to live seems to be running out like the sand in an hourglass.

The digital clock on the bedside table marks three AM. She has to get ready for work at five, so she figures it's time to give up. She did sleep about an hour, she thinks, so she might not pass out from sleep deprivation during the day. Maybe.

So, painstakingly slow, Kate sits up on the side of the bed. Her muscles groan and snap in pain as she stretches them, yawning long and wide enough that her jaw cracks satisfyingly. She goes through her working out routine with patience and discipline. When she feels the burn and the tension in her muscles settle in and her sweat slide through her back even with the chilly temperatures and the bad heater, she stops, heaving for breath.

It's ironic, really, that Kate has never been in better shape than after she has quit her law enforcement job. The truth is, with a very simple 8 hours a day job, no friends or family around, Kate has a lot of free time. She has a treadmill that looks as old as she is, but still works, and a punching bag that alone takes about 1/5 of her apartment space. She also has a gym membership, which is a perk of her job as security, but she never uses, not ready to face people just yet.

Kate also goes for a jog once in a while, especially in the days she can't sleep (which happen quite often). She found out that running around the town when everybody is asleep and, therefore, unable to scrutinize her, is quite calming. In a town like this, everything closes at eight and opens at seven, so the chances of running into any living soul at 4 AM are practically nonexistent.

She decides today is as good a day as any for that. So she puts on some sweatpants, an old gray hoodie, and ties her hair up before leaving the apartment. The breath stings her lips and throat as it goes in, the cold fogging her exhales and making her hands numb, since she forgot to put on some gloves. She pulls the hoodie over her head to protect her ears and rubs her hands together while the exercise slowly warms her up. Soon enough her whole body feels warm.

After a while of a very rigid pace, designed to drive her to exhaustion as quickly as possible, she starts heaving and sweating. She pushes herself as far as she can without risking queasiness, but as she climbs the stairs two at time to her floor she can feel the nauseous relaxation of her body that warns about low blood pressure and low glucose. She should eat something when she gets home, but she mainly plans to throw herself on the couch and wait for her body to adapt to the excess of exercise with nothing to fuel it, seen as her fridge is basically empty and she has been avoiding going to the supermarket for two weeks now.

As she goes through the door, Kate remembers there is some orange juice left, which should be enough to calm her upset stomach, so she makes a beeline for the fridge. As she pulls her sweat stained hoodie over her head and grabs the bottle, luckily still about 1/3 full, her ears start to hiss and her vision begins to swim. She drops on the nearest chair of the table, facing the wall, and puts her head on her hands, lazily drinking the juice with her eyes closed and waiting for it to put some glucose on her organism.

Slowly, her hearing comes back to normal and the nausea abates. When she feels she might not puke as soon as she moves, Kate opens her eyes and studies the gray wall in front of her. As she feels better and better, she sighs. She deserved it, she guesses, she hadn't eaten for over 10 hours before she went out for a run, and she slept during only 1 of those hours.

Eventually, she decides she is well enough to hunt for something solid to eat and get ready for work. But, as she turns around on the chair and sees the man shaped shade sitting on her couch, her heart sprints and her stomach starts trying to run out of her again. Her head swims and her ears feel weird, as if they are plugged and the little noises of the night, like her fridge and heater working and the wind outside, are turned off. She is frozen on the spot, but she gasps as if suddenly out of breath.

This time it's not only a shadow. Not only a ghost, or a dream, or a vision. Kate blinks, astonished. Closes her eyes and opens them again, hoping she is seeing things. But he stays the same, still there, sitting on her couch casually, legs spread and arms supported on his knees as he watches her.

Alejandro.


	2. Chapter 2

Kate would find it the ultimate irony if she knew she is not the only one who has dreams about her last encounter with Alejandro.

After the murder of his wife and daughter, after he saw their mutilated bodies and the clear message left with them, Alejandro's nights were never the same. Under the penumbra he hunted, relentlessly, endlessly, for those responsible. He invaded, killed, tortured. So many men and women. None of them made him falter. None of them made him reconsider. None of them made him wonder if it was worth it. Elena and Sofia are worth everything.

Sometimes he thinks about how horrified they would be of his actions. Wonders if they would be afraid of him. If Elena would no longer look at him with the love and softness she always had, but with revulsion and fear. If Sofia would hide from him as she used to when a movie or person made her scared and he wasn't around, no longer finding comfort in his arms. But the fact they are not here to feel those things hits him like a brick every time. Yes, they would be horrified, terrified, disgusted of him if they knew what he has done trying to avenge them. But they are not here. They can't feel anything. They are dead and buried. They died in pain, crying and screaming. They were raped, tortured and murdered. They are gone.

And they were worth everything for Alejandro. They _are_ worth everything.

So, he never hesitated. Never faltered in his conviction, his mission, the only thing that could possibly make it better. Even if only a little. It would not ease the pain, the loneliness, the longing, but it would make it right. Just a tiny bit right. Alejandro can torture and kill ten thousand people, all directly or indirectly responsible for what happened to his family, and it will never be enough, but it will be _right_. People capable of what was done to the women he loved can not be allowed to live. They need to pay, they need to suffer, they need to die. Punishment is justice, and Alejandro was a lawyer, a prosecutor, justice is what he spend his life doing. Anyone who gets in the way deserves the same fate.

But then came Kate.

Kate Macer, an FBI agent. An exceptionally good at her job FBI agent. Such a rare kind of person, in an even rarer position, incongruous, simply put. Someone honestly good. Empathetic, sympathetic even. Worried about doing the right thing, but even more worried about making a difference. Not exactly naive, but innocent. Knowledgeable about the world, about people, but still trusting, still willing to put value into every single life, as worthless as they might be. Kate is not soft, she is hardened, but definitely not numb. On the contrary, she is exposed like a nerve, like someone who feels deeply and extensively but has learned to pretend she doesn't the hard way. Not sweet, not kind, not nurturing or even friendly. But good.

It had been so long since Alejandro encountered someone like Kate. Since his wife's death, he thinks. Kate is nothing like Elena, but in many ways she reminds him of her. That innate goodness, that desire to be and do good, to do the right thing. Elena had that. It overflowed and spilled from her eyes and her hands as she tended to her patients, as she cared for Sofia, as she cared for him when he had a hard day. Elena didn't need to work, but she wanted to. She was a doctor, spent all the time she wasn't caring for him or Sofia caring for others. She was someone who had seen the worst in people but was still able to see the best in them. See their value, their worth, above all. Unlike Elena's, Kate's eyes were shaded. They hid that yearning she had for being good, doing what is right. After years of seeing it on Elena's eyes, he could recognize it a mile away.

His daughter, Sofia, was good. She was the sweetest, most caring little girl. But she was a child. She didn't know evil, didn't know pain or suffering beyond busting her knee on the yard a few dozen times. The good in her was still derivative of her naivety. People like Elena and Kate are rare because they are not naive. They know. They see. But they are still _good_.

And Alejandro held a gun to Kate's head. He let Kate be broken, he broke her himself. He saw her confusion, her dilemma, and did nothing. He let Matt use and abuse her for his ends. He saw her shake, doubt herself and everyone around her, and when she looked at him for help, for clarification, searching for the right way to go, he steered her with softly given advice down a road he knew would lead to her getting hurt or killed, maybe both.

And he faltered. He doubted. After she was attacked by that corrupt police officer, Ted, he tried to help. But it was superficial. It was his own dilemma leading him to a way that would end in even more damage done to Kate. He knew she was too smart to trust him, but of the people she had contact with during the operation he knew he was the one she felt the most at ease with. She didn't trust him to tell her the truth, but in a firefight he knew he would be the one she would expect to not shoot her in the back. And he did. He shot her and then he threatened her. As she cried and pleaded him not to take the one thing she had left, to not snuff out of her eyes that goodness that reminded him so much of his wife, he held a gun to her head. His finger on the trigger didn't waver. His heart beat so fast, but he didn't shake. He would have done it. If her will to live hadn't won out in the end, he would have shot her. Killed her. Ended her. Someone good. Someone like Elena. He would have done it.

But he just took the lightness out of her eyes instead. He left, and as he looked at her on the balcony, defiantly pointing a weapon at him when he explicitly told her not to, he knew he had taken something precious from her, maybe even the most precious thing. He just hoped he hadn't taken it all.

Kate's goodness reminded him of his wife. Her fear, her vulnerability, reminded him of his daughter. That look on her face when he took and took from her, he would never forget. Sofia looked like that when she asked him to check under her bed for monsters, or turn on her night light. Like he could crush her if he chose to. He could never hurt Sofia, never be mean to her, was incapable of doing anything other than assuaging her fears, holding her close until it was all better, until the nightmare she had or the scary movie she watched were forgotten. But he hurt Kate. He was her monster. He was the darkness she was afraid of, and instead of making it go away he enveloped her in it, transformed her fear in despair and then in loss.

For the longest time Alejandro's nightmares were about Elena and Sofia. Them being hurt, being killed. Their suffering, their tears, their deaths at the hands of bad men while he watched unable to help, to stop it. Suddenly, after Kate, his nightmares changed. The hands around Elena's throat were his. The arms that cradled Sofia and threw her on acid were his own. His finger pulled the trigger of the gun on Kate's chin.

He didn't regret what he did. Avenging Elena and Sofia had been worth it, they would always be worth everything. But for the first time in a long while, he felt guilt.

* * *

She is shaking. She tries to control it, stop it, but her trembling doesn't abate. She isn't cold. She isn't sick. She is afraid.

“Hello, Kate.” Alejandro says, calmly observing Kate falling apart. Her hands visibly shake even through her grip on the table is making her knuckles go white. Her face lost all the color it had when she saw him. Her body is rigid, but he can tell it is just out of an inability to decide between fleeing or fighting. He knows he deserves it, but the look she gives him makes something ache deep inside him.

In an instant, something snaps inside of Kate and she is up. He doesn't flinch as she brings a gun out from under the table. He knew it was there and he took the time to relieve it of its bullets. He thinks he underestimated her, though, because she notices the weight difference immediately and lowers it slowly. She stays up, but her expression becomes more guarded, her efforts to control her body's reaction to his appearance finally seem to work.

As he looks her eye to eye, he can't recognize that goodness that reminded him of Elena in her anymore. The ache inside increases.

“What are you doing here?” She says, her voice doesn't waver or crack, and he feels strangely proud of her for it. She looks so tense he thinks she might break at any time.

“I'm not here to hurt you.” Alejandro says softly, also rising to his feet. She recoils a little at his movement, but recovers quickly.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She enunciates every word slowly and forcefully. Her stance tightens even more, as if she is reading herself for a fight. The defined muscles on her arms that were not there last time he saw her clench and relax periodically, a vein on her throat jumps out with how tight her jaw is. Her fists are clenched and her legs are the exact distance apart to guarantee a punch as powerful as someone of her built can throw. She looks like she lost weight, her cheeks sunk and the few curves she had all angles now, but she also looks like the weight she has left is all muscle and bones, like she could and would take anyone down. She was not a wolf the last time he saw her, but he wonders if she has become one.

He opens his hands in what he hopes to be an appeasing gesture.

“As I said, Kate, I'm not here to hurt you. Calm down, please.”

“I'm calm. I'm as calm as I fucking can be when someone who threatened to kill me not a fucking year ago breaks into my house and takes the bullets out of my gun.” She breaths heavily. “I'm gonna pretend I believe you and say that if you're not here to finish the job you started, then why. Are. You. Here?”

“You don't want to awake your neighbors.”

“Right, because then you're going to fucking shoot them.”

“I'm just not sure we can trust the police if they are called.”

That seems to infuriate her even further. She laughs, exasperated.

“It's a fucking small town. Remember what you said after you threatened to put a bullet in my head? That I should move to a small town where the law still exists or some bullshit like that. Here I am.”

Alejandro sighs.

“I remember what I said. There have been complications.”

“Complications? What complications? The paper you made me sign wasn't enough? What do you need? A fucking tape of me saying you and Matt did everything perfectly?” Kate is vibrating with rage now. It's better, Alejandro thinks, her fear made him feel as if some part inside of him was getting lose. Her rage he can deal with.

“No. Now Kate, listen carefully.” He starts walking closer to her now. He expects her to back away, but is surprised when she doesn't move. “You are not safe here.”

“Of course I'm not safe here.”

It shouldn't, but stings. The way she says if leaves it very clear to Alejandro that she means him. She is not safe because he is with her.

“You need to move. Right now. Pack your things and go, I have some cash for you here, you can hide in hotels out of the state for a few weeks, maybe even go to Canada. Everything will be resolved in a little while.” He stops approaching when he is close enough to smell her. She mostly smells as her apartment does, like cigarettes, alcohol, sweat and dust, but he can also smell hints of soap and toothpaste on her. There is something else, too, sweeter, like her skin, her natural scent. He can almost feel the warmth of her breath when she exhales. He didn't need to be this close to her, but somehow, he is.

She doesn't move, doesn't flinch. A year ago, she would have been backed into the wall by Alejandro's closeness to her. Not anymore.

“Get out of my apartment.”

Alejandro's heart accelerates. She needs to listen to him. Right now. She is not safe and, despite of the harm he did to her, he will not let her get hurt by his enemies. He won't be responsible for more of her suffering.

“Kate.” He wants to raise his hand, to touch her, to convey the severity of the situation. But her eyes stop him. His hand stills before it does anything more than flinch on her direction.

“Get. Out.” She says again. The little tension that managed to escape her body during their exchange comes back increased. She looks like she will bodily throw him out if needed, like she doesn't even care if he is bigger, stronger, better trained than her.

“Kate, please.” He softly pleads her, this time his hand goes as far as half the way before stopping. Kate doesn't waver.

“Get the fuck out.” She says, finally. Her tone of voice is low, but the strength behind the words is new. Alejandro didn't remember Kate being able to use that tone. He remembers her trying to, trying to seem decisive and sure, but never quite managing it. Now, however, her tone leaves no doubt about her intentions.

Alejandro sighs. He backs away from her slowly. There is a black bag on the couch, he points at it.

“There is money in here, a backup gun and a fake ID. Please, take it and go. Don't use your car, take the bus. Get as far away as you can and lay low for a while. When it's safe to come back, I will find you.”

She doesn't move. Doesn't answer him.

He goes to the door, opens it. As he starts to go out, something stops him. His chest aches. He turns and looks at her. Her eyes are like blue steel, impenetrable. He wonders if he did manage to kill all the goodness he saw in her. The ache turns into a full blown pain. His throat is tight.

From Kate's perspective, though, he looks only as if he is considering telling her something. It does look like something important, but maybe just unimportant enough to never be said. At the end, he only says four words.

“Kate, I am sorry.”

Then, he leaves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it. Please, let me know what you think. Criticism and compliments are all welcome. Hearing from you makes my day. :)
> 
> Also, I imagine Kate here with the same built Emily Blunt had on Edge of Tomorrow. Maybe a little skinnier, but mostly that. I swear that woman looks good in any way, but I happen to find that particular look very appealing, so I decided to give it do Kate. Because I can.


	3. Chapter 3

Kate simply stands there, trembling, for god knows how long. At last, she inhales a long, settling breath. Her heart is hammering away at her ribs and she feels like she is going to either pass out or puke. As the adrenaline slowly comes down, she runs to the sink. Luckily, there is nothing beyond bile and orange juice to be expelled out of her empty stomach.

She stays there, hands supported on the sink, stomach revolting against her, for a few moments. The foul smell of bile reminds her clearly of that day in one of Manuel Diaz's houses, the day that started it all. The bodies in the walls, the explosion, the desperate yearning to do more, it all led her here, to this moment in time. She wishes it hadn't.

Ruminating on the past and what should have been is not something Kate allows herself to do very often, though, so she pushes that thought away. There is a problem to be resolved, here and now, and she does her best to calm down enough to be able to concentrate. _Relax…_ She tells herself as she takes a deep breath. She turns on the faucet of the sink. Washes her hands with dishwasher soap. Dries them on her pants. Her hands shake as she gets the pack of cigarettes innocuously sitting on the table and tries to light one up with unsteady fingers.

The black bag on the couch seems to poke her, again and again, so she goes to it, opening it and tossing the contents on the couch. As promised, there is what Kate guesses to be about ten thousand dollars in cash, an ID with the name of Katya Maslovna, a driver's license and two credit cards on the same name and a loaded Glock with tree spare magazines. Kate studies the photo on the ID as she takes a long drag out of her cigarette. It's the one of her identification for the FBI, taken ten years ago when she first entered the force. Nostalgia grips at her for a moment. Her lungs burn when she finally remembers to exhale the smoke filling them. Her fingers tremble only minutely now.

Her legs seem ready to give up on her, so Kate sits down. The cigarette is dry between her cracked lips as she drags in another heavy breath. Her eyes stare at the turned off television in front of her, unfocused. For a moment Kate finds herself incapable of action, her thoughts overwhelmed by what just transpired.

She dreaded this moment for the better part of a year. Alejandro. Alejandro coming back, finishing what he started. She can see it, could always see it so clearly in her mind, in her nightmares. He would come like a shadow, silent, the only heavy thing about him the weight of his gun, full of bullets. Maybe he would use it on her. No, he definitely would use it on her. Kate can imagine Alejandro being physical when needed, having an ease with knifes or blunt force weapons born out of training and experience, but she can never imagine him using anything other than a gun for her execution. He would use it, maybe before she even realized he was there.

That would be the best scenario, actually. Perhaps Kate would be given the leniency of dying quickly, without suffering the anticipation of the act, without having the opportunity to be afraid. Maybe he would come during the few hours she slept, slide his way through her house and enter her room. He would see her asleep, probably twitching softly due to a nightmare, maybe still and peaceful in deep slumber, and he would come closer. He would crouch quietly beside Kate's bed and watch her, her chest rising and falling, her eyes moving behind her eyelids. He once told her that she reminds him of his daughter, someone very special to him. Maybe he would see her on Kate's face as he brought an illegal gun to her temple. Maybe he would even softly caress her cheek before he pulled the trigger, one small indulgence. And then, she would be gone. It would be over quickly, she wouldn't even feel it. He would look at her dead body, would rise to his feet, turn his back and go. Unfazed by the life he destroyed and ultimately ended, Alejandro would go on his way, searching for a revenge that he will never fully reach.

The ashes of Kate's forgotten cigarette fall on her bare hand, and the momentary pain snaps her out of her thoughts. She puts the cigarette out on the ashtray of the coffee table and looks at the objects strew over the couch. Suddenly, she can't bear the sight of them, so she throws everything back into the bag. The clock on the wall tells her it's 5:30 AM. She needs to get ready for work. She needs to get as far away from Alejandro as she can. She needs to know what just happened. She grips the strap of the bag in one hand and thinks.

Why would she be in danger? The only events that could lead to something like this, especially considering Alejandro's involvement, happened almost a year ago. As far as she knows the cartel Sonora has been decimated in Mexico. Without three of it's highest bosses it was easy prey for the other Mexican and Colombian cartels, that clearly benefited from its fall. There shouldn't be anyone left, let alone anyone influential enough to be able to present danger to her this far inside the United States. And if there is, they shouldn't be worried about her, they should be trying to rebuild the cartel.

Even assuming that someone from the cartel Sonora somehow survived and had enough power to be able to savage it and keep some of its influence, had the time and resources to discover how Manuel Diaz, Guillermo and Fausto Alarcon were taken down, saw the footage of her and Reggie on the bank, connected the dots and decided she would be a good way to start towards revenge, how does that concerns Alejandro? Why would he be worried if some cartel member tries to kill or kidnap her? Why would he care?

As important and impactful as the operation Kate participated in was, it doesn't make sense that she is in danger from the Sorona cartel because of her involvement with its take down, and it also makes no sense that Alejandro seemingly is trying to protect her. One thing that might make sense, though, is that the source of his sudden protective instinct towards her has to do with the knowledge she has about the operation they did in Juárez, information that might lead the enemy to Matt or Alejandro himself. It must be it. Kate hasn't breathed a word about what happened to anyone, so maybe it has been deigned that she is worth the waste of resources necessary to keep her safe. It's all speculation, though, she has no clue what is actually going on.

In the end, Kate is unsure about how to proceed. She doesn't trust Alejandro or Matt enough to be convinced that this is not a ploy to somehow lure her into a situation that will benefit them, since that is exactly what they did to her in the past, so Kate ends up deciding that the safest course of action for now is to go on with her day as if nothing happened.

After a look at the black bag she is still clutching, Kate reloads her personal gun and hides it under the couch cushion instead of the table. Maybe it won't be so easily found again. As she quickly goes through her usual getting ready for work routine, she wonders if she should be feeling more worried about her safety. It's weird, though, that as terrified as she is of Alejandro and what he might be planning, the fact the she knows he is in town stops her from being overpowered by fear of the cartel and what they might do. She doubts Alejandro will leave until he knows she has. It's probably a toss up for him: if she stays and lures the cartel out, he has a way in, if she goes, he has the guarantee that his secrets are safe while he deals with the surviving portion of the Soronas. Maybe it doesn't matter what she does, Kate will be playing into his hand anyway.

* * *

When she gets to the bank, Kate is almost surprised by how normal everything is. Jim, her co-worker and the only other security guard in the bank, greets her with a nod and a good morning as he drinks his morning coffee in the staff room. Jim is a retired cop with three grandchildren to take care of – his wife and his daughter are both dead and the father of the children is in prison and therefore unable to care for them – and pretty much the only person Kate speaks with on a regular basis. There is also Tom Walters, the manager of the bank, who always takes some time off of his day to hit on her, always exceedingly charming but with a faint glint on his eye that Kate is able to recognize a mile away after Juárez.

Today is no different. Kate is making a beeline for the coffee maker when Walters strides confidently down the hall, but when he sees her in the staff room getting a very needed cup of coffee he deliberately stops and goes in, gets some coffee she knows he doesn't like and then casually stands uncomfortably close to her. She refuses to move, purposely ignoring his presence.

“Good morning, Kate. How are you? You look like you had a tough night.” The mock concern on his face while he shamelessly runs his eyes over her body makes Kate want to punch him, but she refrains.

“I'm fine.” Luckily, the rudeness of her answer seems to be enough to scare him away. Walters is one of these guys, if he had the chance to have his way with her, he would, but he doesn't have the courage to face women who don't bow down to his good looks and medium sized income, so he never goes further than lewd looks and uncalled for conversation. However, there is just something about him that makes her think he might be more predatory than he seems, but she wouldn't go as far as calling him that. Walters is a shameless immoral opportunist, dangerous only to those vulnerable. Kate might be in a vulnerable place for herself, but even now she is too strong to fall prey to someone like him.

Either way, as Walters babbles some idiotic excuse and goes away, throwing out his still full of coffee disposable cup, she can't help but relax a little. Jim looks at her with solidarity, but he actually needs this job, so he rarely does anything other than offer silent support. She thinks that if Walters actually tried something really inappropriate, though, he would step in. Jim is a good man.

Kate takes a long, satisfying gulp of the only slightly cooler than searing hot coffee. The strong, bittersweet taste of it as it burns on her tongue and down her throat helps her relax further. _Who would have known? I obviously became a masochist_ , Kate ironically thinks as she takes another sip. Finally, her hands have completely stopped trembling. There is still the aftertaste of adrenaline and fear at the back of her throat that even the coffee can't get rid of, but Kate does her best to ignore it. The clock on the wall tells her it's 6:27 AM when her cellphone starts ringing inside her back pocket. It's Reggie.

“Hi.” She answers the phone quietly after she leaves the staff room and goes to the bathroom, which is completely empty at this hour. “What is it? Why are you calling so early?”

“Hey, Kate. How are you?” His familiar voice answers her. She misses him, it has been a few months since she last saw him is person, and a week since they talked through the phone.

“I'm fine. You?” Kate leans on the sink, there are mirrors in three walls of the bathroom, something completely unnecessary for a bank, but the image it reflects of various Kates leaning on the sink infinitely never fails to distract her. Her repeating image shows a very tired, very tense woman. It's definitely accurate. Kate can't help but think that Walters must look at her and somehow see an easy prey. She does look like she is about to fall over.

“Fine, too.” Reggie's answer brings her back to the present. Her tiredness seems to be catching up to her, and she has to suppress a yawn.

“Why are you calling? It's 6:30 in the morning.”

“Hey, I can't call my partner anymore? What's happening?”

Kate sighs. She turns to the sink and turns on the faucet, throwing some water on her tired eyes in an effort to make them more alert. As she looks at her face on the mirror, her vision is smudged.

“Of course you can call me whenever you want, it's just weird that you would call so early, it's all.” She tiredly answers him, energy flagging fast. She has no idea how she is going to get through the day in this condition.

“I am an early bird, Katie, you know that. I have been awake for hours now, working out and stuff.”

Kate laughs lazily. It feels good. She is so sleep deprived, though, that she feels a little as if she is high.

“An early bird, yeah? Okay. It's not like I haven't had to wake you up myself because you couldn't get your lazy ass out of bed after a work night.”

“Come on, Kate, gimme a break. It was one time. One time. Damn.” Kate is still smiling, but her face feels like it doesn't know how to do it very well anymore, the muscles feeling tense and lax at the same time.

She can hear Reggie sigh heavily.

“Okay, okay. I didn't call only to hear your sunny voice this early in the morning. I have to say, though, I was in the military, I'm pretty good at waking up at crack of dawn, okay?”

“Fine, keep telling yourself that.” She drawls.

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you, and this is classified so...” The seriousness of his tone manages to wake something very primal in her, the same instinct that made her such a good FBI agent. She is suddenly alert.

“You shouldn't be telling me this.”

“Well, yeah, but I think you need to know.” She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't.

“Just tell me, then.”

“Remember that house we bust, the one that belonged to Manuel Diaz but couldn't be linked to him? Remember the company he owned, SunOasis?”

“Yes.” _I wish I could forget,_  Kate thinks _._

“We have been tracking the company since then, well, I have been tracking the company since then. As you know, there is no way to link it or Manuel Diaz or to any of his alleged illegal activities. For a while after the operation in Mexico, it has been still. It's there, but nothing has been done with it. I just though, with Manuel dead, it would either pass to the hands of another criminal, probably a relative, or be sold. Hell, I though it would even be taken out of a lack of management, since the boss is dead and all.”

“And..?”

“It hasn't. I mean, the company has not bought or sold anything for months, but it has been managed by someone. Legally, it's now owned by one of Diaz's associates, the oldest son of his brother Guillermo. It's a kid, 19 years old, studies business in the UCLA and there is no freaking way he has been the one actually managing his dead uncle's properties. Anyway, last week, out of nowhere, the company buys five houses and a company in the United States, a laundry mat called Sunny Clothes – I swear, this people have a thing for the word “sun” – and it's fully functioning again. As far as I know, it was all legal, but you never know with these people. I just though it was weird… So, I'm telling you.”

Kate is silent for a while, thinking.

“Kate..? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

She considers telling him about Alejandro's visit, but something nagging at the corner of her mind stops her. She takes a deep breath and runs her hand over her hair, stopping at the bun at the back of her head.

“I'm fine Reggie, don't worry. Thanks for telling me. It's probably nothing, and if it isn't, well, it doesn't concern me anymore. I have to go now, my shift starts in fifteen minutes.”

Reggie is silent for a few moments, probably finding odd Kate's lack of interest in the signs of life from the Sorona cartel in the US.

“Okay then, take care, Kate.” He says, finally.

“Same. Bye.” Kate says, trying not to sound as scared and tired as she feels. She ends the call.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things are finally getting interesting. I have a vague idea where I'm going with this, but I'm mostly just making it up as I go along right now, so please tell me if there are any inconsistencies now and in the future. 
> 
> Please, comment. You guys make my day when you do, and I appreciate immensely anything from criticism to compliments and everything in between. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the biggest chapter I have posted so far and it took a while to be ready. I wrote a first draft, disliked it, and rewrote it all, so that is why I took so long. I hope you enjoy it. :)

.

.

The hours drag and stretch endlessly for the rest of the day. Kate feels a tension in the air, like the faint smell of water and copper before a storm, and she can't stop looking over her shoulder every few minutes as she keeps watch on the bank, functioning on auto-pilot and being paranoid at the same time. The more anxious Kate feels, the slower the time passes, seemingly mocking her uneasiness and dread.

Objectively speaking, aside from Alejandro's appearance and Reggie's call, Kate's day was as normal as they come. It really unsettled her, though, how big of a coincidence it is for Alejandro to come to her and the Sonora cartel to start showing signs of life in the USA at the same time. The simplest explanation, as much as Kate doesn't want to consider it, is that those occurrences are not unrelated and Alejandro was at least partly telling the truth to her earlier. The cartel did survive somehow and by some unfortunate event it's still active inside the country.

As obsessively as Kate watches everyone and everything around her during the day, she can't catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar face or someone who shouldn't be there, but instead of appeasing her, it only strings her tighter. The possibility that Alejandro was telling her the truth when he said that the cartel is after her eats at her brain, forming a headache that throbs through her forehead and slides down her neck. The encounter she had with Alejandro earlier doesn't help matters, remembering how close he came to her and how defenseless she was against him unnerves Kate so acutely that she spends her entire lunch break smoking cigarette after cigarette in an alley nearby, instead of going home as she usually does. Kate doesn't want to admit it, but she is wary of going to her apartment and possibly finding someone there, waiting for her with a loaded gun.

In the end, Kate manages to get through her shift without accidentally shooting someone for moving a little too fast and startling her, which she thinks is a miracle given how jumpy she is. As she readies herself to face the chilly temperatures outside by putting on her jacket and gloves, the tension settled on her shoulders feels like it's about to crush her. She tries to put on her best facade as she quickly nods goodbye to her co-workers and leaves, walking down the street while making a conscious effort to not obsessively look around. She dreads going home, is terrified of Alejandro and wary of the cartel, but there is a sense of inevitability that permeates her thoughts and makes her want it all to just be over. If it has to happen, and it does, the faster the better.

As she treads down the street, her steps heavy with her boots and the snow, Kate feels a shiver run down her spine, the very specific kind that has nothing to do with the cold. She stops immediately and spends the next minute standing there, breathing quietly and deeply as she searches carefully for the source of such a feeling, finding nothing. The few people venturing the streets are all locals that Kate has seen around before many times, and seem to have no interest in the weird woman standing still in the street with temperatures bellow 30 degrees.

Kate's neck seems to burn the rest of the way. She has a car, mostly for going out of town, but she works so close to home that she usually doesn’t bother using it even with the low temperatures. As she walks towards her apartment, almost there, she feels like eyes are trickling down her back, marking her skin under the heavy coat she wears like melting lava. She can't help but turn and look again, but she can't find anything out of the ordinary. Her heart races the closer she gets to her destiny.

Kate takes four tries to fit her key in the gate's lock, and drops her keychain when she tries to get her apartment door open. She is glad, at least, that her apartment complex is so tiny that it has no doorman. She is not naive enough to think that an unarmed employee would provide any safety against a Sicario, on the contrary, it would be just one more person to get hurt. But, as she quietly opens the door, trying minimizing the groaning sound it always makes, Kate wishes this would all be over. She feels so tired, so utterly exhausted. All she wants is to be able to sleep, to not have nightmares, to not need to worry about being killed in her own home. Maybe it's asking for too much.

The still darkness of her seemingly empty apartment greets Kate as she closes the door behind her. She does a thorough check on the place, searching room by room and any space big enough to hide a person. As she reaches the last room and finds it empty, she is assaulted by conflicting emotions of relief and deep foreboding. As usual, though, she does her best to ignore it and keep moving. There is no choice, really, not for someone like Kate. She refuses to die, refuses to be destroyed, therefore all she can do is keep going, wait and live for as long as she is allowed to.

As she lays on her bed that night, listening to the groans of the wind outside and breathing deeply in one of the many exercises she has tried over the months to help her fall asleep, Kate closes her eyes and sees an image painted behind her eyelids. It's only the light from her bedside lamp, which she left on, filtering through her skin as it reaches her pupil, the yellow color tampered by the blood flowing through the thin layer of flesh and becoming red. It feels like a prediction when, after a few hours of rolling around on her bed, Kate manages to finally fall asleep with the color of blood coloring her vision.

* * *

It starts more like a memory than a dream. Kate remembers it vividly, she was five years old and two years short of boarding school when her parents decided, in a last effort to save their marriage, to go on an exotic trip through India.

Kate remembers most of it vaguely but brightly. She remembers the fact that she hadn't seen her father for a long time right before the travel, she also remembers she was so used to it she didn't even ask why, “bussiness” was always the answer. She remembers the smell of the place when she first ventured the streets with her parents, an amalgamation of scents that confused and awed her, going from the most delicious foods and perfumes to dust and people and trash. She remembers how in the airports and the richer areas the people where quick and well dressed and the buildings were chromed, shinning metal, but in the street markets a lot of people were dirty and some even walked without shoes, but everything was so much brighter and the colors were so many it hurt her eyes and people would smile at her and nod at her parents much more often. She remembers the sun, shining down on her warm and weirdly comforting, the same and yet completely different from the one she was used to back home. Kate remembers her parents getting along for a little while, a few weeks of happiness and simplicity.

Of course, none of it lasted and less than a year after her parents were divorced. A year after that, she was sent to a boarding school on the other side of the country, from sunny Nevada to gloomy New Hampshire, it was where Kate became who she is. But then, during those few weeks in India, Kate's family wasn't broken and she felt loved and cared for and it is to this day one of her happiest childhood memories, marred only by the fact it didn't last and by the way she can now see how superficial it all was, how things can not be fixed magically and while she blissfully enjoyed herself in her childish naivety her parents where crumbling apart.

In that place and time, however, she was happy. To her five-year-old self, things seemed simple, seemed easy, even though she already knew they usually aren't. There was one sole day, the last day they were there for, that looking back at now Kate can see was actually nightmarish for her and her parents, and she remembers with startling accuracy.

Her parents are not the most adventurous people Kate knows, but her mother always had that hidden streak of dangerous curiosity. She likes poking at things, poking at people, getting to know and dissect them even if she shouldn't, even if there is risk. It usually manifests itself in the worst ways, with uncalled prodding and disregard for other people's feelings, but it also manifests in other ways, like the time her mother made a trip to the rain forest when Kate was a teenager and was unreachable for a month. In India, that dangerous streak manifested itself rather innocuously. One morning, Kate's mom decided it would be fun to go to one of the poorer areas of the city, and maybe explore the street markets.

It wasn't anything that different from what they had been doing, really, but so far they had been sticking to the richer, safest parts of the city. At the time, Kate had no idea where they were, nor did she care, but in a city as big as Mumbay there are a lot of possibilities to explore, and she believes her mom for once had good intentions when she suggested the destination.

And so they went. Kate had seen a lot of different people and a multitude of colors and shapes and items in the city already, but nothing quite prepared her for the exuberance of the street market they went to. There was so many people it was impossible to walk without bumping anyone, and they screamed at each other in a language Kate couldn't understand, seemingly able to navigate the structured chaos that not only dominated, but defined the place and its people. In one of the many bumps Kate and her mom had with a local or tourist, she released her mother's hand and single-minded walked away, enraptured by a shiny piece of cloth in one of the stands, a mesmerizing wave-like pattern sewed with silver line and clear tiny crystals on a deep royal-blue cloth drawing her eye like a moth to flame.

When she finally snapped out of her trance and looked over her shoulder, she couldn't see her parents anywhere. In that moment, her little heart accelerated. She looked and walked around, timidly peering through the mass of bodies in search of something familiar, but the chaos that seemed so mesmerizing a few minutes earlier suddenly became menacing. Kate was deeply scared, more than she ever remembered being. In a place full of life and people, she was lost and alone, the despair of it eating at her, her naivety protecting her only as far as to not realize the full dangerous potential of her situation.

However, Kate knew bad things happen to children who get lost from their parents, and she also had a deep settled fear of abandonment, having being emotionally neglected by her parents her whole short life. She still has that fear, actually, and it's part of the reason why she rarely gets close to anyone. Something no one has can not be abandoned.

With no other options, little Kate simply wandered through the streets. Her pink dress quickly became brown from the dirt and the dust, and so did her pink slippers. Her flower headband was quickly lost when she realized her mother wasn't around to berate her for taking it off, and Kate aimlessly walked through the crowd, dozens, hundreds of adults passing through her without looking twice. She wasn't crying, wasn't calling out for her parents, but surely a child as young as she was should have called attention. Except, it didn't, not among so many other people, not when everywhere one looked there was something brighter and shinier to be seen. It felt like hours, but it must not have been more than 30 minutes when Kate reached the limit of the market, where it meet the emptier street. There, houses of exposed brick piled over each other, glued to one another, a few alleys between them smelling strongly of trash and homeless people siting in the sidewalk, beggars with the skin glued to their bones and the years etched on their faces. A few, skinny and dirty children ran around, and Kate felt the urge to join them, however, as the adults, they yelled at each other words that had no meaning to Kate. She kept walking.

Eventually, she tired. She was thirsty and afraid and alone, and Kate finally started crying. She went to the sidewalk and sat there by herself, hugged her knees and waited.

One of the beggars, a skinny old man with a big beard, dressed only with rags, approached her. Kate looked at him, waiting for him to say something, but he didn't, instead smiling at her with his crooked, rotting teeth. Such a person should look scary to a lost 5 year-old, but there was just something about the old man, something about how he didn't approach her aggressively, but kept a distance that was both welcoming and non-threatening, that made Kate trust him instantly. He extended one of his hands to her, opening his long, dirty fingers and holding it as an invitation, softly smiling at her.

She looked at him and at his hand, his fingers bent weirdly, like twigs of a tree, long and thin. She put her small, cleaner hand in his grimy one, and he softly nodded at her and pulled her arm, so she would stand. When she did, she realized how short the old man was, just about 10 inches taller than her, his back very curved and his frame fragile looking.

Her hand being at once softly and firmly held by him, the old man guided Kate slowly through the street. They went back towards the market, and as it neared Kate felt the panic of getting lost gripping at her again, but the old man just looked at her and encouraged her to keep going with a kind smile and a light pull. As they ventured the chaos of the market, the weight of the old man's hand on hers was like a safety blanket, somehow little Kate knew he wouldn't let her go.

Eventually, even a market as big as that one and with their very slow, paused pace, Kate and the old man managed to get to the other side of it. Kate thought it was extremely weird how people seemed to avoid them, pointedly getting out of their way to not touch them, some going as far as making faces and looking disapprovingly. It didn't really matter, though, Kate was just glad to not bump into strangers.

Finally free of the market, though, she felt immensely relived. At a light pace, the old man continued to guide Kate through streets and alleys. They were now in a richer part of town, not quite as rich as downtown, but better off. People continued to ignore them and go out of their paths to avoid brushing with them, but Kate, who had long stopped crying, couldn't care less.

After a while, they got to a street with a big, dark building at the end of it. It looked menacing and had a lot of people around and inside it, and as the old man softly guided her towards it she wondered if they would get in. They didn't, though, they got as close to it as they could before reaching the people around it, and stopped. The old man released her hand, and Kate was jarred by how she was instantly terrified. The man just smiled softly at her, and made shooing motions indicating the building. Kate turned her back to look at it, and felt her fear increase. She didn't need to speak the same language as he did to understand that he intended for her to go in by herself, but she didn't want to. Kate didn't want to be lost, or alone, was tired of being afraid. Her chin started quivering, tears threatening to spill, and the old man motioned again.

“I don't want to go!” She said. The man wasn't fazed in the slightest, and continued his motioning, eagerly encouraging her to go. Eventually, she took a last look at him and started walking towards the building. She would look behind her shoulder every few seconds, and the old man would still be there, standing on the street, looking extremely frail but vigorously motioning at her to keep going. As she walked through the front door of the building with some difficulty because of the quantity of people, she looked behind a last time, and saw as the old man nodded and smiled at her.

The building was a police station, and it would be years before Kate discovered why the old man didn't enter it with her. He was an Untouchable, lived his entire life in absolute misery and would die in it, never knowing anything beyond the streets and the others like him. And he saved her. Saved her life. One of the few policemen in the station noticed her, noticed that she looked and dressed like a tourist and spoke English, and in a matter of a couple of hours her parents were there to pick her up, both of them worried and emotional.

Now, as an adult, Kate can see how dangerous the situation she was in actually was. How horrifying it could have ended. And it amazes her, it truly does, how that man that probably knew so little kindness in his life and was used to seeing only the damned like him was able to recognize someone that didn't belong there and help. He knew there was no hope for him or for others like him, but he saw Kate and he knew that she wasn't in the right place, and he helped her, guided her back. She will never forget it.

She dreams of that day. Of being lost and alone and terrified. Through the years, she has had many dreams like this, and they usually end the same way: the old man never finds her, she stays there, afraid and alone, until she wakes up.

Tonight, as she goes through the worst part of the dream, the fear she felt sitting on that sidewalk by herself seems magnified by the fear she has felt recently, and it becomes something all encompassing and suffocating, pure agony in the form of sheer despair. As in her memories, when she looks up from her knees, there is someone standing in front of her. Except, instead of a kind, poor old man with a broken smile, it's the shadow of a man, the barrel of a gun pointed straight between her eyes. It fires.

Kate wakes up.

She is gasping, sweaty and trembling as she sits there on her bed, willing herself to calm down. As recurrent as this dream has been through her life, it still catches her by surprise. It's actually the first time in a long while that she has it, her nights being dominated by Alejandro lately. This has deeply unsettled her, though, Kate tends to have the same dreams and nightmares over and over again, and while this is not the first time different nightmares or dreams of hers have been fused together, it is the first time it happens with the old man and Alejandro.

She does her best to shake it off, though, as she checks the time and sees how early it is. 2:27 AM. She managed to sleep a little over three hours, which is something, at least, but not nearly enough. This time, however, as much as Kate rolls and breaths calmly sleep does not come for her. Finally, at 3:12, she gives up.

After a quick shower, a cigarette, a cup of orange juice with vodka and an old toast, Kate is sitting on her couch and blankly staring at the turned off television, willing the time to pass. It refuses to, though, and she is restless. The feeling of foreboding she had during most of the day is back with a vengeance, the dream not helping it, and she gives up on staying still and starts her working out routine.

It doesn't help. The insistent restlessness under her skin hasn't abated, and she considers drinking more just to appease it. Something stops her, though, the familiar itch for the freedom of running and the physical exertion it provides. Kate is not stupid, she knows how dumb it would be to go out alone at night in this weather like a normal human being, let alone with the potential of a cartel after her, but she feels as if it doesn't really matter what she does, she has no power in this game. What happens is entirely out of her hands, and instead in the hands of Alejandro and the cartel.

She guesses it's mostly a matter of whether she trusts Alejandro or not, which she doesn't. In the end, she has no evidence that the cartel is somehow a threat to her aside from what he told her. The fact that the cartel might be active in the USA doesn’t necessarily mean anything, and she wouldn't put it beyond Alejandro to somehow pull some strings to move Diaz' company to make it look like it's functioning again and convince her to believe him. As far as she knows, he could very well be part of a cartel himself, being as Matt defined him as a “free contractor”.

And, considering how he managed to break into her apartment without to much as breaking her lock, she doesn't think she will be that much safer from him in her apartment if compared to the outside of it. It's rationalization, and she knows it, but in the end Kate has almost completely lost her capacity to care. If something bad happens, at least the torturous anticipation will be over. It's foolish of her to think like this, but she feels as if she has very little to lose.

With methodical movements Kate readies herself for a run. She remembers to put on gloves, extra socks and a hoodie, her gun hidden in her pants – as much as she knows she is not a match for Alejandro, she is not going to make it too easy if she can help it, and there is also the possibly of the cartel to consider – as she leaves the house, locking the door behind her.

She goes down the stairs quickly, jumping a few steps in the end like she used to as a child when her mother wasn't looking. In the corridor, she hears the indiscernible humming of her neighbor’s television, her own breath and the floor creaking under her steps, the wind outside relentlessly blowing.

Outside the apartment complex, the street is immersed in darkness, a few spots of light coming from windows and the sparse public lighting, hindered by the weather. It's isn't actively snowing, but the ground has a fine layer of snow, making it slippery and hard to navigate. The asphalt has been cleaned, so Kate runs on it instead of the sidewalk. As she feels more confident that she isn't about to slip and break her neck, she picks up the pace.

The town is very small and surrounded by thick woods. They entwine with the buildings, forming pockets of forest among the constructions and casting a powerful shadow even at night, blocking the light of the moon. Kate's breath fogs the air in front of her face as she sees one of these spots a dozen yards in front of her about twenty minutes after she started running. She runs even faster, knowing she will need to slow down when passing it, since the potential for foreign objects like twigs of even animals to be close by is exponentially increased.

As Kate nears the trees, she can see that a lamppost there is broken, plunging a whole portion of the street in impenetrable darkness. She considers turning around and going the other way, but as she nears it enough that she needs to make a decision, she thinks she hears the far away sound of snow being crushed by steps.

Kate halts so suddenly that she almost loses her footing and falls, but manages to stand upright. She looks behind her, and sees nothing for a moment. Then, a man turns the corner of the street behind her, casually strolling in her direction. He carries himself with the confidence of someone who is not afraid very often, and Kate is incapable of making out his features with the distance and darkness. Her heart beats strongly against her ribcage. Almost immediately, another man follows the first one, a taller, wider, apparently white male. After him, there is a third, and Kate notices they all have their hands on their pockets.

Instinctively, she stops looking and turns around, running towards the darkness. At least there isn't anyone around to be hurt when they try to take her. It's a fleeting relief, but it's something. If they approached her at her apartment, surely her neighbors would listen and possibly intervene. Nothing good would come from that.

As the pocket of almost solid looking darkness in front of her gets closer, a car racing down the road behind her can be heard. Not stopping to look behind while the noise increases, Kate throws herself out of the way at the last second. The car breaks suddenly, swerving slightly and turning around in the snowy street before stopping.

Kate hears the sound of a second vehicle approaching somewhere in the street, but barely has the time to process the sensory information. The black Toyota that almost ran her over moves again and stops closer. Dazedly, Kate tries to get up, but a sharp pain on her side makes her cry out and fall back. Without many options, she blindly searches for her gun and grips it with one hand, pulling it out and pointing it at the car.

Kate, almost resignedly, waits for some cartel member to exit the car and come for her, probably someone she has never seen before, but the door opens and Alejandro comes out. In the few seconds necessary for this to happen, the second vehicle Kate heard before gets close enough that its light flashes on her eyes, temporally blinding her.

Disorientated, her grip on her handgun shaky and her hands clammy, Kate tries to get up again. The pain makes her head swim and all she manages is to kneel on the asphalt. Suddenly, she is yanked up by strong arms and her unsure grip on the gun falters. Alejandro catches it and stows it on his belt, while bodily dragging Kate from the ground towards the car.

As he throws Kate inside the vehicle, she hears the sound of bullets ricocheting on metal, and the knowledge that they are being shot at helps her overcome her pain and confusion. She is not bleeding, which is good, but she thinks she might have managed to crack a rib when she hit a rock she wasn't expecting to be on the sidewalk. She has had broken ribs before, she knows how it feels, and while this feels terrible it luckily doesn't quite fit the bill.

“Move over.” Alejandro tells her while he uses the car door as cover to return fire. Kate drags herself as fast and painlessly as she can from the driver's seat to the passenger's without exposing herself to the fire fight. This car is probably not armored, though, and she hears Alejandro's grunt of pain as a bullet comes through and nicks him in the arm. Miraculously, the windshield hasn't been broken yet, but the window on Alejandro's side is nothing more than glass shards around his feet.

After Kate gets out of the way, Alejandro efficiently gets into the car and quickly turns it on. She expects him turn it around and go the opposite direction, but he silently tosses his gun to her and tears down the street towards the cartel members.

Kate shakily catches the gun and positions herself as best as she can to shoot the Sicarios from her open window. She thinks she mostly misses, but she knows she hit one of the tires of their black SUV. Alejandro throws the car towards it, unworried about the armed men. They, unexpectedly for Kate, stop shooting and jump to the other side as the Toyota tears down the street. It barely misses the SUV and Alejandro drives half on the street half in the sidewalk to avoid it.

Kate hears the clack-clack of the bullets hitting the car from behind and the rear window finally shatters as it's hit by the relentless bullets of a semi-automatic. She does her best to shrink as much as she can, since trying to return fire with her handgun right now is basically suicide. Alejandro does the same, though she thinks he is at least wearing a bullet-proof vest. He drives almost blindly down the street, looking at once worried and in control. Suddenly, he makes a right hand turn at such velocity and so unexpectedly that Kate is thrown to the left, bumping against him hard with her shoulder.

Her rib screams in agony, and she groans as she gets back to her seat. At last, she can't hear bullets anymore. There is also no sign that they are being followed. Foolishly, maybe, Kate puts on the seat belt.

She glances at Alejandro. His left arm is bleeding, his jacket stained with red next to his shoulder. As far as Kate can see, it doesn't look serious, like the bullet only grazed him. He notices her looking and glances at her. Despite the situation, his expression is very calm. He nods at her, saying with only that small movement that she did good. Maybe going out late and alone wasn't the best idea, but Kate knows she was right in not trusting him, so all of this was inevitable. Better that it happened where they could get away and no other people could be hurt, and even better that she managed to stop them from following her.

In the most incongruous situation she could ever imagine, having been shot at by a cartel, wounded, crashing hard from excess of adrenaline and sitting beside a Sicario that threatened to kill her not a year ago, Kate feels relief. She is not entirely sure why, but there is a weight that has been lifted from her shoulders tonight, and as Alejandro guides them through a path she has literally never seen, entering the woods and painstakingly driving through it, Kate relaxes, her tense, clenched muscles slowly uncoiling. She looks forward.

. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and reviews make my day, so, thanks to anyone who took the time to leave them. :)
> 
> I also have to say that next week my classes start, so you can unfortunately expect more scarse posts. I'm not giving up on this, though, so you can all rest assured, I will finish it. ;D


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